Chapter 6: Three-2

"When we were like nine. I realize I'm not exactly a voluptuous bombshell but a lot has changed since then." X grins and slips a lazy arm across my shoulder. "You're more like a time bomb. A wild girl just waiting to be free." "I love that you're such a dreamer," I tell him. "Tori, are you sure you don't want to come with us?" "Even my face hurts," she says. I take it as a no. When we arrive, the party is in full swing and my headache is back with a vengeance. I rub my temples furiously but it's no good. I'm just waiting for my body to cope by blocking the trauma all together, but I doubt the universe would be that merciful. The front lawn of the frat house is packed. People stand shoulder to shoulder, reminiscent of those God awful animal rights videos showcasing deplorable living conditions of helpless little creatures. I became vegetarian three years ago because of them. Do the jocks, the freaks, the geeks, all feel like cattle? Christmas lights hug tree trunks and hang loosely off of the roof. The music is loud but not so deafening that we can't speak over it. I'm grateful because the last thing I can handle right now is some band pumping pop lyrics into my mind at 110 decibels. People smile and wave. Xavier gets several pats on the shoulder and introduces me politely to everyone. There better not be a recall test after this because I'll fail. Poor X. He wants me to have fun, to experience the true college firsts but I want nothing more than to return to my postage stamp sized apartment and sleep for the rest of eternity. I'm feeling sicker by the minute; no longer convinced that it's from booze alone. Maybe I did in fact contract the bubonic plague. Sure feels like it. Feelings of impending death aside, I can't help but be proud to be the girl at Xavier's side. Under normal circumstances, I'd despise something so shallow, but since I'm part of it, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am the envy of every female here. I can't lie. It feels pretty awesome. Madeline Mason stands about five feet away from me with a red solo cup in her grasp. She holds it up to cheers me. It ignites some kind of spark in Xavier's mind. "Want a drink, Mou-" he stops himself before he calls me by my nickname in front of half of the campus. "Can I get you a drink, Lola?" At his question, my stomach lurches and I don't need a mirror to tell I'm shades of green. "What are the chances you can find water?" His hand rubs small circles on my back. "I'm so happy you came tonight, if you want water, that's what I will find you." I offer him a small smile. "Thank you." "You want to come with?" I shake my head. "I'll wait over on the porch for you if that's okay." "Alright. Don't be taking off on me." He heads to the inside of the house but takes forever to make it to the door. I suspect he'll be stopped at least fifty times before he gets to the kitchen, so I head to the backyard where there is free space on the porch. Before I plant my butt down, I notice a ping-pong table set up surrounded by a huge group of people. A friendly game of beer pong is underway. Curiosity piqued, I head over to the crowd to see who is playing. Jackson Nathaniel Sunday. Hot tattooed mess. He's poised to make a shot, holding the ping-pong ball overhead, bicep flexed underneath his shirt. I suck in a breath and hold it, scared to break his concentration. I don't move. I don't speak. I don't breathe. Even so, it's like he knows I'm here. His head snaps to the side and he issues a grin that is so devastating, I can hear a chorus of gasping females. "'Bout time you showed up, Angel." Every girl in a 10 foot radius turns to me, their expressions sharp. "Nice to see you again, Jackson." He lifts a finger, indicating that I should wait. He holds the ping pong ball up, and tosses it overhand, until it lands perfectly in the amber liquid in Bradley Winter's cup. He points a victorious finger in Brad's direction. "Drink," he says, pivoting and taking slow easy strides toward me. "How you feeling?" "I feel fine." "What, no headache?" "No," It's a partial lie. The way my head feels now has long ago surpassed a simple headache. My brain is melting, seeping into the sides of my skull and I am helpless to stop it. "Dizzy?" "No." A full lie. "Belly hurt?" "No." He scratches his jaw. "Nothin' huh?" "Not one thing." "Really? 'Cause I was feeling pretty awful all day long, like a sacrifice to the grim reaper himself but now that you're standing next to me, I gotta say, I feel pretty good." His eyes go very wide and I can see that they are not quite green and not quite brown but rather a stormy mix of the two. "Fancy that." "Must be a weird coincidence," I say. I scan the yard for Xavier but he hasn't emerged from the house yet. "It's no coincidence, Angel." "I really wish you'd stop calling me that." "You'll grow to like it," he says. "Now, can you honestly tell me you haven't felt terrible all day long?" I close my eyes for a beat so I can have a one on one moment with my body. Yep. I have felt awful. I still do. "I'm hungover." "Or lovesick," he supplies. "You really get off on this, huh?" He crosses his arms over his chest. "Give me a little credit. I would never get off on hurting you for God sakes." "Unless you're Xavier's bottle of overpriced whiskey, you have not hurt me. There is no such thing as lovesick, and I'm sure this…" I pause and wave my arms around, "this charming act you have perfected works on some girls but it doesn't work on me. Xavier is inside, you should go, find him and have a good laugh that you two managed to frazzle me, but honestly you don't need to keep up the show. Well done by the way, but I'm over it." The corner of his mouth lifts. "It's not a show. Xavier didn't put me up to anything. I'm here for you." The banter with Jax has almost made me forget about the assassination attempt my brain is making on itself by way of killer headache and to be honest, he really is kind of sweet so I decide to humor him. "You're here for me huh?" "Most definitely," he says. "Why is that?" "I've already told you. It's because you wished for me. It doesn't get more cut and dry than that." "You're really cute but you can't seriously expect me to believe that because I made a stupid wish that you materialized out of thin air to love me?" "Not thin air," he says. "But that part of the story is for another time. All you need to know is I'm here now and no one will ever love you like I do." Ha. "You don't know me," I say. "I do." "You can't." "Try me," he says. "Try you?" "Ask me somethin' about you." "What's my favorite color?" "Black," he replies, "and when people argue with you that black isn't a color, you change your tune and say red. You love red because it's passionate, like you." "You could have easily guessed." "Give me something harder," he challenges. "What's my birthday?" He laughs. "It was yesterday," he says. "Newsflash, I'm your wish. You may as well have gift wrapped that question when you handed it to me. Try something hard, that no one who wasn't an important part of your life would know." "What's my favorite book?" "You tell the world that you're into the classics but it's not true. You love the trashy supermarket romance novels. They are your guilty pleasure, dirty secret, whatever you wanna call it." I step back. He's right. "How do you know that?" "Because I know you," he says. "I've been trying to tell you." "Are you some kind of stalker?" He shakes his head. "Listen. All you need to do is let go a little, put aside your reservations and be open to the idea." "What idea?" Where the hell is Xavier? "To let me love you," he says. "I promise you won't regret it. Let me take you on a date." "No." "Why not?" "Why not? Stranger Danger. You can't seriously expect me to believe your story. You're entertaining and kinda sweet but batshit crazy nonetheless." "Crazy for you," he says. "Think about what you wished for Lola. Your exact words were 'I wish I would meet someone who could see me for who I am. I wish for a fierce, unhindered kind of love. The kind so deep it hurts. I wish that to someone other than X, that I wasn't invisible.' Whether you want to admit it or not, I happen to know you've felt terrible today, just like I have. Like some deadly virus has attached itself to your molecules and is sucking the life right out of you. That's what happens when you wish for something so profound, so deep that it hurts." I clumsily stumble back. "H-h-how did you know that?" "Because I know everything about you," he says. "You're the better half of me." Before I make the decision to run away screaming or slap Jackson for stating the thoughts inside my head out loud, Xavier returns, solo cup in hand. It's about bloody time. He pretends to be oblivious to Jackson, and his asinine claims for that matter, but Xavier, short of knowing my wish word for word, could have provided Jax with any of the information he'd just shared with me. X smiles and nods at Jackson. "Hey man." Jax gives the obligatory bro nod back. "What's up?" He leans in close, and I when I catch his scent, I want to lick him. He smells like citrus. "I'll go now Angel," he whispers, "but when you accept that what I've said is real, when you start to burn up and feel feverish again, because you will, you come find me. My place is right on the beach, number 33." Fat chance citrus-scented-dorm-intruder. He smiles politely at both of us and spins on his feet, walking away. Xavier brings his drink to his mouth and takes a swig. "Who was that?" "Oh please. As if you don't know." "I don't know or I wouldn't have asked," he says, deadpan. "Seems like a nice guy." "He's certifiable," I say. Xavier's brows draw down and his smile fades fast. "Why? Did he do something to you?" That's Xavier's opening. He wants to laugh in my face about his prank. I think not. The chances of that happening are as likely as me going to number 33, Beachfront Avenue. Slim to none. I take a sip from my water. "No," I say. "He didn't do anything at all."